


Like Winter Nights, the Stars, the Ice

by ChaoticDemon



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Hopeful Ending, Bucky Barnes Feels, Discussion of mental illness, Discussion of the events of Age of Ultron, Fix-It, For the pairing at least, Forgiveness, Future Fic, Howard Stark Is a Dick, Infinity Wars is happening in the background, M/M, Made up scientific explanations, Maria Stark is awesome, Mentions of Canonical Character Deaths, Obadiah should be his own warning, Panic Attacks, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sharing a Bed, Surreal, This is just 15000 words of feelings, Time Travel, Tony Feels, Winteriron Bang, but not really, mentions of HYDRA, mostly canon compliant, technically pre-slash, this is really hard to tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2016-10-11
Packaged: 2018-08-21 18:46:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8256470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaoticDemon/pseuds/ChaoticDemon
Summary: Tony never thought he'd get to see his parents again.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I think I tagged everything. Please let me know if I missed something.
> 
> I wrote this after seeing CA:CW once, so I misremembered how long Howard and Maria were going to be on their trip for. For the purposes of this fic, they were planning on being gone through Christmas.
> 
> Title is from "Broken Bride" by Ludo.
> 
> Art by sleepyoceanprince: http://sleepyoceanprince.tumblr.com/post/151678619923/finally-my-submission-for-this-years-winteriron  
> Art by beir: http://beir.tumblr.com/post/151659043704/my-winterion-bang-art-for-rothwens-like-winter
> 
> I'm also adding the art down below. Please be sure to let the artists know what a great job they did.

Tony woke slowly, warm and content, for once not feeling the aches and pains that he carried around with him. Getting old sucked, and he was more than willing to take advantage of the lack of pain to sink back into the wonderful slumber that he'd been enjoying. He squirmed a little where he was lying, and settled into an even more comfortable position. He had been so tired lately; drifting off to the sound of his mother’s singing was probably the best idea he’d had in a long time. He sighed and let the music wash over him.

Moments later, Tony tensed. There was something wrong about this situation, but he didn't know what. His brows furrowed. He listened more closely. His mother was at the piano, accompanying herself. His father was shuffling things around in the next room, cursing softly as he tried to find something. The room smelled of his mother’s perfume and the citrusy wood polish Jarvis favored.

He sat up and looked around the room. His mother was wearing one of her favorite dresses. The furniture was all where it was supposed to be.

Tony himself was warm, in the way that only ever happened in winter, when everyone was using heaters and fires. His head was particularly warm. There was something on it, he realized.  He reached up with one hand to grab it.

It was a Santa hat. Huh. He hadn't worn one of those since his parents had died.

Oh. That's what was wrong.

BARF, he thought? It had never been this disorienting before, but there was the possibility that he'd made some drunken adjustments. It certainly wouldn't have been the first time. He reached up to take the glasses off.

There was nothing there. He patted his fingertips from his temples to the bridge of his nose, fingers brushing across his cheekbones in the process. Nothing.

“Tony?” came his mother’s voice. He froze and stared at her with wide eyes. She was frowning at him. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” he managed around the sudden lump in his throat. He ran his hands over where the glasses should have been resting on his face one more time. Still nothing. He looked helplessly at his mother. Was he dreaming then?

His mother’s frown deepened. “Are you sure?” She reached over and placed a cool hand on his forehead. “You feel a little warm. Do you want me to call Obadiah? He’d be happy to come stay with you if you need it.”

Tony blinked at her. “Stay with me?” he parroted dumbly. There was a strange sensation happening in his belly, as though he had missed a step that he usually remembered and was now plummeting down the stairs. Everything seemed to be going so slowly to him, but there was nothing he could do to fight off the burgeoning sense of horror.

“While we’re on vacation,” his mother explained. “I’m calling him. He should be able to get here soon. You’ll only have to be alone for a little while.”

He wasn’t sure which was worse, knowing his parents were about to die or having to see Obie again. He reached out a hand to stop her, his fingers catching the fabric of her skirt. “Let me come with you,” he said. It was a reflex, something only meant to keep her from the phone, but the more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea. He’d get to spend a little longer with his parents and maybe if he changed things here it would be enough to jolt him back to reality.

His mother opened his mouth, most likely to point out the plans Tony had made for his own Christmas. He didn’t actually remember what he had been going to do; everything had changed when Barnes had…

“Dad hates leaving the car at the airport. I can drive it back here for you and pick you guys up when you get back.” The excuse sounded weak to him but it was the only one he could come up with on such short notice.

“You’ve been drinking,” his mother said.

Tony shook his head. “I’ll be sober by the time we get to the airport. Dad has to drop something off on the way, right? It’ll be fine.”

His mother stared at him, brow furrowed. “Alright,” she said slowly, “if you’re sure you’ll be alright.”

He felt flooded with relief. Maybe this way he’d beat the programming, or wake up, or break out of the hallucination. Huh. That was an idea. Was this Wanda’s doing, maybe? Had Rogers sent her after him? He didn’t entertain the idea that this could all be real. He couldn’t. It would hurt too much when it all ended.

* * *

His father was driving, casting glances at Tony’s reflection in the rear view mirror. Initially Howard had made some snide comments about his son coming along, but those had stopped after he’d had a whispered conversation with his wife. Was his dad worried about him, he wondered distantly? Was he just upset that Tony had decided tag along? Tony found it difficult to care, too busy watching the world go by from his place in the back seat.

It wasn’t long before the car turned onto that familiar path, coming closer and closer to that stretch of road that had haunted him for years. It was coming, he knew, only a matter of time. A headlight behind them illuminated the back of his parents’ seats. That would be the motorcycle. Tony checked his seat belt and braced himself, anticipating the tire blowing out underneath them.

The collision with the tree caused the strap over his chest to dig into his shoulder painfully. For a moment it hurt to breathe. He glanced at his parents, but they were only making small movements. The miniscule motions were reassuring. They weren't dead, at least. Not yet, anyway.

A pair of boots thudded on the ground outside. The entire car jolted as the trunk was ripped open. Tony unhooked his seatbelt with a small click. A dark figure stalked to the driver's side door and yanked it open. Howard Stark spilled out onto the ground. “Sergeant Barnes?” the man stuttered. He sounded disbelieving and terrified. “What are you doing?”

The Winter Soldier loomed over Tony’s father. A shining arm reached out. Howard seemed to realize that he wasn’t going to survive this reunion. “Don’t hurt my wife or my son,” he pleaded. His voice trembled. The metal arm hesitated for a moment before it finally grabbed onto Howard. In the passenger seat, Maria was coming awake with a groan.

Tony swung open the rear door as hard as he could, letting it smack into the assassin. Barnes didn’t so much as budge. Stepping out of the vehicle, Tony caught sight of his father’s frightened face. “Let him go,” he said. It wasn’t as intimidating as he’d hoped, coming from his younger self, but it was still enough to gain the Soldier’s attention.

It gained Howard’s as well. “Run, Tony,” he begged. He swung feebly at the man in front of him. “Don’t you dare! Don’t you hurt him! What are you waiting for, Tony? Run!”

The metal hand let go of Howard. The moonlight glinted off of it oddly and Tony realized it was shaking. The super soldier turned to the young man. Instead of the expressionless face Tony was expecting, Barnes’ eyebrows were furrowed and his grey eyes were very wet. “Stark?” Barnes asked in a tiny voice. “Iron Man?”

There was a sick feeling in Tony stomach. He should have been glad he wasn’t alone in this, but he was having trouble coming up with anyone he’d like to be stuck with less.

* * *

“There’s a camera,” Barnes said, pointing vaguely in the direction of some surrounding trees. Tony ignored him in favor of holding one of his father’s spare shirts to his mother’s bleeding head. “I don’t know if you remember or not,” the assassin continued.

“Oh,” Tony said, finally turning to look in the other man’s direction, “I remember.”

Barnes flinched, hunching in on himself in a futile effort to make himself smaller. He was already standing some distance away from the Starks, his hulking figure halfway hidden in the shadows. His new posture made himself disappear almost entirely.

Howard sat next to his wife, clutching at her hand until his knuckles turned white. His eyes darted from Tony to Bucky and back. “How?” he asked.

‘How’ what, Tony wondered. How is Barnes alive? How are we alive? How did I know something was going to happen? Tony shrugged in response, dabbing again at the trail of blood that dripped down the side of his mother’s head. “You okay, Mom?”

She stared at him with unfocused eyes. “Are you?” she managed. She reached out her free hand to trail against the harsh bruise forming along his collarbone.

“I’m fine,” he responded. He took her hand in his own and gave her fingers a soft squeeze. “It’s just bruises. From the seat belt.”

A chorus of sirens was audible in the distance. Tony had never been more thankful that cellphones had been invented. “You should get out of here,” he said. He was still looking at his mother, but he was unmistakably speaking to Barnes. “We don’t want to have to explain you to the cops.” He glanced back at the still open trunk of the car before adding, “Take the briefcase with you. We can’t risk that ending up in the evidence locker.”

Barnes didn’t say anything, but there was the sudden sound of footsteps towards the car, followed by the roar of an engine. By the time the patrol cars were close enough to bathe the clearing in flashes of red and blue, both Barnes and the motorcycle were gone.

* * *

Tony hated hospitals; it was something that he’d never quite managed to shake throughout the years. The sterile smell made his skin crawl and the harsh lighting made everything far too intense. Worse than those, though, was the knowledge that someone was hurt. Specifically, that someone he knew was hurt, and that there was very little he could do to help. Shoving money at things was all well and good, but there were limits to what that could achieve. Making medical technology helped, but even that couldn’t solve everything. Thankfully, one thing that money could achieve was a private room for the three of them to be treated in.

Tony himself only had bumps and bruises, and sat slumped in a chair in the corner of the room. The doctor was treating his mother while his father hovered nearby, rubbing the fingers of one hand over the wrist of the other. A couple of police officers hovered outside the closed door, likely waiting to hand off the paperwork and ensure that they knew their case number. They hadn’t seemed to notice anything suspicious about the crash, but Tony couldn’t be sure if it was because Barnes was very good or because the officers were Hydra. They’d had agents everywhere, he remembered. He wasn’t sure who he could trust.

The adrenaline had begun to wear off and Tony was left feeling exhausted. What the hell was going on and what should he be doing about it? It hurt to think. The doctor finished bandaging his mother’s head and moved onto his father.

The sharp clack of shoes on linoleum drifted in through the doorway and there were voices outside. After a few moments, someone knocked on the door and opened it. One of the cops poked their head inside. “There’s an Obadiah Stane here to see you,” he said, looking at Howard.

Howard nodded. “Let him in,” he said. He tried to move toward the door, but the doctor stopped him with an arched eyebrow. The cop ducked back outside and the door shut.

“You called Obie?” Tony asked. He wondered if his voice sounded as awful to his parents as it did to himself. Judging by the concerned expressions on their faces, there was a good chance it sounded worse.

Howard frowned at him. “He’s giving us a ride home,” he said. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. It’s just Obadiah.”

One of Tony’s hands came up to clutch at his chest. There were plenty of reasons to be afraid of Obie, right? Had he been plotting to take over Stark Industries this far back, or had that come later? What would he do if he knew the truth? “Don’t tell him what happened,” he begged. He didn’t care if his father didn’t approve; he couldn’t risk what Obie might do.

Howard was still frowning at him when the door opened and Stane walked in. “My God, Howard,” he said once he got a good look at them, “what happened?” Obadiah was the picture of concern; Tony hated that he couldn’t tell if it was faked or sincere.

“It,” Howard began, but trailed off, still watching his son. Tony shook his head and kept watching his father with wide eyes. “A deer,” he eventually said. “It was a deer.”

“A deer?” Obie parroted, skepticism evident in his tone. What did that mean, Tony wondered.

“Yes,” Maria chimed in. “It jumped out right in front of us. Howard tried to swerve, but…” She shrugged helplessly.

Howard continued for her. “I lost control. We ended up hitting a tree.”

“I see,” said Obadiah. He shifted a few strands of Maria’s hair so he could get a better look at her bandages. “I’m assuming your trip is off?”

Maria nodded in confirmation. “I’m not allowed to fly with this head injury, and I'm not sure I could handle being away from Tony so soon after this.” She looked back at where her son was sitting. Obadiah followed her gaze.

“Tony,” he said. His eyebrows rose in surprise and Tony was pretty sure that was genuine, at least. “What are you doing here?”

Tony didn't answer. He wanted to, wanted to be able to give a believable lie like his parents had, but there was some sort of pressure in his chest, right underneath where his hand was still clutching at the fabric of his shirt. He could only stare up at the other man with wide eyes.

“He was in the car with us,” Howard said, apparently realizing that Tony wasn’t going to be able to answer. “He was going to drive the car back home so we wouldn't have to leave it at the airport.”

Obadiah raked his eyes over Tony's form. “Are you alright?” His tone was soft and caring. The pressure in Tony's chest swelled.

Maria tutted and strode over to her son. “Poor thing,” she said, wrapping her arms around him. “So shaken up.” Tony clutched desperately at his mother. Just for this one moment, he desperately wanted this to be real.

* * *

The ride back home was quiet. Howard sat in the passenger seat, talking business with Obie. Maria had slid into the back with Tony and their linked hands were resting on the empty seat between them. The inside of the car was dark, only occasionally illuminated by streaks of lamplight.

The gentle movements of the car were lulling Tony to sleep, but he resisted. Barnes was still out there. What if he tried again? Hydra had wanted the car crash to happen in the first place. Barnes had taken the serum, but he had left witnesses. If Barnes didn’t finish the job, would Hydra just send someone else? Every headlight that came into view was another moment of panic.

Finally, Obie turned onto their driveway. The house looked the same way they’d left it, warm and inviting. It had been so long since Tony had seen it that way. He was used to it being cold and empty.

Obie turned off the ignition and stepped out of the car. Tony tried to open his own door, but it wouldn’t open. His hands shook as he tried again. Nothing. He stared at the door as he tried to fight off a rising tide of panic. A hand landed on his shoulder. Tony spun around as best as he could to see who it was.

“It’s still locked,” his mother said. Tony blinked at her. “The door,” she continued, “You have to unlock it.” She pointed at the little knob near the window which was still depressed as far as it could go. Tony pulled it up with trembling fingers and tried the door latch again. The door opened.

Tony scrambled out of the car and into the safety of the porch light. This garnered him a chorus of odd looks, but he didn’t think that he could handle the darkness anymore. He watched as Obadiah helped Howard bring the luggage to the front door.

“Is there anything else I can help with?” Obie asked. “Anything you need?”

Howard shook his head. “I think we all just need some sleep,” he answered. “I’ll call you tomorrow, let you know if anything else comes up.”

Obie clasped Howard’s shoulder with one hand. “Feel better, alright? Call me if you need anything.” He let go of Howard to take Maria’s hand in his own. “Maria.”

“Good night, Obadiah,” she told him.

Finally, he reached out to Tony, who flinched violently away from him. Obie’s hand fell to his side. “See you later, kid,” he said. There was something unreadable in his expression.

* * *

The family didn’t move from the porch until after Obadiah’s car had driven away and the hum of its engine had faded into the distance. Maria wrapped an arm around Tony’s shoulders and led him inside after Howard had unlocked the door. The front room was brightly lit, but silent. There was no sign that anyone else was home, and Tony distantly remembered that Jarvis and Anna had gone to England for the holidays. After his parents had died, they had rushed back as soon as they could, making it back just before the funeral.

[Art by sleepyoceanprince](http://sleepyoceanprince.tumblr.com/post/151678619923/finally-my-submission-for-this-years-winteriron)

“What’s going on, Tony?” Howard asked, turning to face him where they stood in the front room. Tony stared at him. He tried to verbalize some type of response, but the words stuck in his throat. He just stared at his father and shook his head helplessly. He wasn’t sure what was going on either and had no idea how he would explain any of it.

Howard frowned at him. “Tony,” he repeated gruffly.

Maria tightened her grip on her son. “Not tonight, Howard.” Her husband opened his mouth to continue, but she raised an eyebrow at him.

Howard huffed. “Tomorrow, then.” He turned to leave, but hesitated. Quickly, Howard turned back around and hauled Tony into a hug. He held his son before a few moments, ignoring how Tony had tensed up, before finally letting go and heading up the stairs to his room.

Maria placed a kiss to Tony’s forehead. “I’m glad you’re alright. We’re both glad,” she said before following her husband to bed.

Tony was left standing alone in the front hall. “FRIDAY?” he asked, voice hitching. “Are you there?” There was no response. “Please answer me,” he begged. Silence.

* * *

Tony woke suddenly to the darkness of his bedroom. The last remnants of his nightmare had him shaking and the air felt very cold against his damp skin. He almost thought that he could see his breath when he exhaled. He sat up and held his head in his hands. “It was just a dream,” he told himself.

Someone cleared their throat. Tony jumped, scrambling away from the noise and almost falling off of his bed. A pair of eyes gleamed in the shadows. The figure fidgeted and there was a flash of a metal limb in the moonlight. Ah. Not a dream then. “What the hell are you doing?” Tony hissed, heart attempting to beat out of his chest.

The figure hunched further back into the darkness. “I didn’t mean to wake you,” came the reply. “I can come back later.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “If you think I’m going back to sleep after that,” he began. “Just tell me why the hell you’re in my room at god knows what time in the morning.”

Barnes shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I brought back the serum,” he said. The metal arm gestured vaguely at where Tony remembered a chair being. Tony squinted at it. There was, indeed a suitcase shaped blob resting on the seat.

“And you needed to be in my room, why?” Tony rubbed a hand over his face and fought back a yawn.

“I,” Barnes tried. He swallowed and began again. “I thought this was another nightmare. I keep trying-” He cut himself off with a glance at Tony. “What are you even doing here?” Barnes sounded desperate and confused.

Tony scowled. “What are you doing here?” he shot back. “You don’t have a monopoly on reliving their deaths.” The room was very quiet for the next minute. Tony had to resist the urge to make some sort of sound just to check if his ears still worked.

“This isn’t a dream, is it?” Barnes’ voice was very soft, but it was still enough to drown out the silence.

Tony’s shoulders sagged. He felt very old. “Apparently not. It can’t be BARF either. Not if both of us are here.”

Barnes blinked at him. They were both quiet for a few more moments. “What’s the last thing you remember,” Barnes finally asked.

“Talking to Rogers on that damn phone,” Tony supplied instantly. The sky above New York had been on fire and Tony had made the mistake of answering the cell when it rang. The conversation hadn’t gotten much farther than Rogers mentioning the fucking alien invasion when… “Something hit the tower,” he continued, recalling the shaking of the building and the sparks shooting out of exposed wires like so many little stars. “What do you remember?”

“Going into the ice again right after Siberia,” Bucky responded.

Tony blinked at him in surprise. “Rogers froze you?” ‘After everything,’ went unsaid.

Barnes shook his head. “I wanted to be. Just in case Hydra’s still in my head.” He looked away from Tony. “I still don’t know everything they did to me, or what they made me do.”

“You told me you remembered all of them,” Tony said. Barnes didn’t look at him.

With a huff, Tony shoved aside his covers and got out of bed. He walked to the briefcase and picked it up before heading to the door. “Well,” he asked, looking back at Barnes, “are you coming?”

Barnes followed him as he left the room. “Where are we going?” the assassin asked as they headed to the stairs.

“Kitchen,” Tony answered. “The kitchen has coffee and we’re not having any more emotional moments in my bedroom.”

* * *

It took four pots of coffee and a dozen eggs, but the two of them finally managed to put together a list of could have happened to them. To Tony’s disgust, ‘magic’ was at the very top. ‘Alien technology’ was less aggravating but no more helpful. Tony banged his head against the table in frustration.

“It could be both aliens and magic,” Bucky pointed out. Tony raised his head to glare at him. The assassin was smiling, tentatively.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying this,” Tony bit out.

Barnes’ smile grew incrementally. “I have always wanted to meet an alien.”

“Aliens are overrated,” Tony huffed. They fell silent again, but this time it was at least a little companionable. The sky outside the windows was starting to lighten and the two of them still needed to figure out what to tell Tony’s parents. They had no way of knowing if all this was a hallucination or an alternate universe. Telling them too much could be disastrous.

Tony took a long sip from his mug and sat back with his eyes closed. It was probably the shock and lack of sleep talking, but this was nice. Much better than the last time around, when he had just been informed that his parents were dead and had to spend the holidays planning their funeral instead of hanging out with… “Rhodey!” Tony shouted, lurching forward in his seat and almost spilling his coffee on the table.

Barnes stared at him with large eyes. “What?” he asked.

Tony waved him off, already out of his chair and heading for a phone. He was pretty sure he forgot to charge his cell phone last night, so the landline would have to do. It took him a moment to remember the number, but he finally got it dialed and ringing. There was a click and a groggy voice spoke up. “Hello?”

“Rhodey!” Hearing his best friend’s voice was a breath of fresh air and Tony could feel what tension remained in his shoulders drain away. Rhodey made everything better.

“Hey, Tony,” the man said. There was what sounded like a yawn before he continued, “I didn’t forget about you. I’m not supposed to pick you up until this afternoon, right?”

“I wasn’t worried about that,” Tony said. “I was actually calling to tell you I can’t come to your house for Christmas this year.”

“What happened?” Rhodey asked. He sounded a lot more awake. “What’s wrong?”

Tony shook his head, even though Rhodey wouldn’t be able to see it. “Nothing, just…”  He paused for a moment as he tried to figure out his words. “My parents and I were driving to the airport last night and there was a car crash. Everyone’s fine, minor injuries only, but we all kind of just want to stick close together.” There was silence on the other end. “That’s alright, right?” Nothing. “Rhodey?”

Finally, his friend spoke up. “I’m not going to pretend I’m thrilled with this,” he said.

Tony’s stomach suddenly felt hollow. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I thought you’d understand.” Tony didn’t remember his friend being upset that Tony cancelled last time around. Was he just too blinded by grief to notice?

Rhodey sighed. “I get that it’s necessary. I just wish it wasn’t.”

“I’m sorry,” Tony repeated. It had been a long time since he’d felt so insecure around Rhodey. He didn’t like it. Was it really so different because no one had died?

“And of course it happens now of all times. Mom’s not going to be happy about this.” There was a rustle on the other end of the line. “She’s been asking after you. She worries, you know?”

Tony swallowed, but didn’t say anything. He was gripping the phone so hard that the plastic casing creaked.

There was another sigh coming from Rhodey’s end. It was very harsh and shaky. “Say something,” he ordered. “Anything.” Rhodey’s voice cracked.

Tony tried, but he couldn’t manage any words. Rhodey huffed. There was quiet for a few more moments. “Of course this happens now,” Rhodey finally said. “Could there be a worse time for this nonsense?” Rhodey laughed, unamused. “You know, my life used to be normal before I met you. No surprise trips to Rio, or alien invasions, or fucking magic.”

The phone in Tony’s hand creaked alarmingly and he had to force himself to hold it less tightly. “What did you say?” he asked. It came out hardly louder than a whisper.

Rhodey plowed on. “I wouldn’t change it for the world though.” His voice was incredibly fond and the sound of it brought tears to Tony’s eyes. “We’re looking for a way to fix this on our end, so you just need to hang on okay? We’ll get you out. There’s no way I’m going to keep dealing with a  sulking Rogers on my own, you got that? I’m gonna fix this so that you have to suffer with me.”

There was a roaring sound in Tony’s ears. He heard Barnes saying something, but it sounded so far away. There was a soft murmur of conversation in the background. Tony ignored it. “What’s going on?” he asked into the phone. There was no answer. “Rhodey?”

“I miss you,” Rhodey said, so soft that Tony almost missed it. “Maybe we can hang out later, towards the end of the vacation. I can come to you and you can show me New York,” Rhodey said, louder this time and lacking the previous emotion. “Tony?” he asked when he received no answer.

“Yeah,” Tony answered, thrown by the sudden change of subject.

“Okay,” Rhodey replied, “I’ll see you later, then. Merry Christmas.” There was a click as Rhodey hung up the phone on his end.

Tony stood clutching the phone while he pondered what had happened.  Did Rhodey remember what had happened, too? No. There were two different conversations in there. He was broken out of his reverie when a hand gently tugged the phone away from him. He started and looked at the culprit.

His mother stared back at him. “Are you alright?” she asked, eyebrows furrowed in concern. He could see Barnes and his father standing a few feet behind her, watching him intently.

“No,” Tony said, shaking his head slightly. “No, I’m not.”

* * *

It was always awkward, sitting around the dining room table with his parents; the fact that Barnes was in the room with them didn't do anything to make it more comfortable. Barnes was doing the dishes in the background while Howard stared at his son over a mug of coffee. Maria sat next to Tony, one hand on his arm. As for Tony himself, he was sitting and staring into the pool of dark liquid in his own mug.

Howard rapped his fingers against the tabletop impatiently. Barnes was washing the same dish for the tenth time. Tony chanced a glance at them, but failed to find anything to say. His throat clicked as he swallowed and he lowered his eyes again. The way steam curled up from his coffee was entirely too fascinating.

Maria ran her free hand across Tony’s shoulders and tugged him into a loose hug. “Who was on the phone?” she asked, voice soft. Tony leaned into her embrace and shook his head. He wasn’t sure he could handle answering right now. He let himself enjoy the hug for a few more moments before he gently pushed her away. She wasn’t real, he knew that now. It was just about the only thing he was sure of. As much as he longed to be with her, there was no way that would be possible, at least, not for very long.

“That was Rhodey,” he finally said. He hated how rough his voice sounded. If anything, this answer only made everyone more confused.

“What’s happened with James?” his mother asked.

From the sink, Barnes’ face scrunched up in confusion. “Rhodey? You mean War Machine?”

“War Machine?” Howard echoed, baffled.

Tony met Barnes’ eyes. “Yes,” he said very slowly, “that Rhodey.” He kept eye contact until Barnes’ eyes widened in realization.

“From when we came from?” he asked, something akin to shock on his face. Tony nodded and pursed his lips. Barnes was keeping something from him, he was sure. He hadn’t forgotten the comment about not remembering everything.

Maria looked back and forth between the two of them. “When you came from?” she parroted. Tony placed one of his hands on top of hers and gently squeezed.

“You’re not seriously talking about time travel?” Howard asked. His hands were lying flat on the table in front of him, as though he was prepared to push himself up onto his feet. Tony just shook his head. He needed to talk to Barnes privately. He didn’t know how he was supposed to tell his parents that they weren’t real.

“Tony,” his mother asked, “what's going on?” He wanted to tell her, he really did, but he didn’t think he could handle it.

“I need to talk to Barnes privately,” he said. He removed his hand from his mother’s and stood up. Barnes set down the plate and gestured tentatively at the nearby doorway. Maria reached out for her son, but Tony turned away from her. He was worried that if he touched her anymore then he wouldn’t be able to let go. There was no way that he could have this forever. It wasn’t real. He walked through the door Barnes had indicated and rushed to the mansion’s back door. He didn’t want to have this conversation inside; he was feeling trapped enough as it was.

Stepping outside was like trading one hell for another. He wasn’t surrounded by walls anymore, but he wasn’t really a fan of the cold, not after Siberia and Afghanistan. The desert might have been scorching, but he’d spent the majority of his time there in a cave, where he’d been consistently able to see his own breath. He chanced a look at Barnes. He’d guess that the super soldier wasn’t a big fan of the cold either.

Tony came to a stop near a cluster of trees that was close enough to the house to be seen by anyone inside, but far enough away that his parents wouldn’t be able to overhear their conversation. “That was Rhodey on the phone,” he said without any preamble. He didn’t want to be talking to Barnes any more than he had to. He still wasn’t quite ready to forgive him.

Barnes nodded slowly. “So you said. The one from when or where we came from.” He paused a second and swallowed, eyes darting around before settling once more on Tony. “Did he tell you what’s happening?”

Tony shook his head. “Not exactly. He talked at me, mentioned something about magic. Seems your pal Steve is present for whatever the hell is going on.” Tony looked toward the house; his mother was standing in the window watching them. She waved when she noticed him looking. Tony swallowed the lump in his throat and turned back to Barnes.

Barnes was looking between Maria and Tony. “You only ever mentioned your mother,” he murmured. Tony had to strain himself to hear him.

“What?” he asked.

Barnes flinched a little, as though he hadn’t meant to say it out loud. “In Siberia,” he repeated more audibly. “You only mentioned your mother.”

“Leave it,” Tony growled.

“But-,” Barnes tried.

Tony gave him a vicious look. “You told me you remembered everything. Either explain that or stop talking.”

Barnes took the second option. He leaned back against a tree and slid down it until he was sitting on the ground, eyes averted. Tony watched him for a few more seconds before he took off back toward the house. He needed to be away from the super soldier before he did something rash. As he walked away, he didn’t hear Barnes following after him. Good, he thought to himself. There was a low churning in his stomach that felt an awful lot like guilt. It just made him angrier. He was entitled to be pissed. He was.

* * *

Tony’s day got infinitely worse when the doorbell rang. The cheerful sound of the buzzer did nothing to lessen the terror Tony felt when he opened the front door to Obadiah’s face. He would have slammed the door shut instinctively if his father hadn’t stopped him by curling one hand around the heavy wood. “Obadiah,” Howard said. “What a surprise.” His tone was even, but the question in his words was evident.

Obie nodded his head at the two of them in greeting. “I thought I’d come by and see how the three of you were doing.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Howard said evenly. He wrapped his free arm around Tony’s shoulders. Tony shifted his gaze from their visitor to stare blankly at where his father’s hand now rested on his shoulder. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Obie frowning at the gesture. Tony turned his head to blink up at his father, but Howard gave no indication that he’d noticed. The man just kept his eyes on Obadiah. “A call would have been fine, and then you wouldn’t have had to come all the way out here for nothing.”

“I’d hardly call checking up on a friend ‘nothing,’” Obie replied. Tony wondered if he’d practised his expression in a mirror. “Can I come in?” the man asked. He took a step forward.

Tony tried to step back, to maintain some distance between them, but his father’s arm prevented him from moving very far. Howard squeezed his son’s shoulders briefly. “Only for a little bit,” he told Obie. “We’re not really up for much company right now.” He pulled the door open so the other man could pass through and shifted so that he was between his son and his business partner. He let go of Tony and swung his arm around Obadiah’s shoulders so he could lead the other man further inside. “Shut the door, Tony,” Howard said without looking back. “We don’t want to let too much heat out.”

Tony stared blankly after them until a gust of cold air prompted him to finally push the door shut. It latched with a click.

* * *

“Who was that?” Barnes asked the moment Obie’s headlights had vanished into the distance. Tony jumped at the voice coming from behind him and whirled around. There was something flinty about the soldier’s expression. Tony didn’t answer, so Barnes turned instead to Howard. “Who was that?” he repeated.

“Obadiah Stane?” his father offered. He was clearly baffled.

“Why do you care?” Tony asked.

Barnes frowned. “He’s familiar somehow.”

Tony felt his eyebrows lift. “You remember him?” he asked, alarmed.

Barnes shook his head. “I think so. But I don’t know from where.”

Howard looked between the two of them with a frown. “Does this have anything to do with the time traveling thing you won’t tell us about?”

Tony ignored him. “Have you ever met him?” he asked. “Or have you only seen a picture?”

Barnes looked at him for a long moment with an unreadable expression. He shook his head once more. “You should stay away from him,” he said in lieu of an answer. “He’s dangerous.” He turned on his heel and stalked away before Tony could ask him anything else.

* * *

The clouds were on repeat, Tony noticed. It was a long cycle, but if you watched it long enough, the same clouds started showing up again and again, in the same order. And while there were a lot of birds in the trees surrounding the mansion, they were all identical. He still wasn’t quite sure what was going on, but he couldn’t stop noticing the little things that indicated that none of this was real.

According to Barnes, the books didn’t have any writing in them, either. The television only showed one episode of one show. If he didn’t already know what would be inside a drawer or a closet, it refused to open. Both Tony and Barnes were weirded out by this, but they seemed to be the only ones that noticed. Both Howard and Maria could spend hours looking at the blank pages of the books and reacted to the television as though it was their first time seeing whatever program was on. Neither of them had any problems opening up any of the drawers.

Thankfully, whatever was happening didn’t seem to affect the contents of the refrigerator or kitchen cabinets, because they always managed to find something familiar to eat. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a whole lot to do, and Tony had been forced to form a truce with Barnes in order to find out what was going on. It was tense between them, all the ease of their first morning together gone, but Tony was determined to make this work.

It didn’t help that Tony’s parents insisted on being involved, even if they didn’t know exactly what was going on. Howard kept demanding answers and frowning when they wouldn’t tell him anything. Maria, on the other hand, tried to help out wherever she could, whether that was fetching them more paper or reminding them that they needed to eat. Tony was excruciatingly grateful, even if it hurt to look at her and know that she wasn’t real.

“Do you know about the stream out back?” Barnes asked Tony a few days into their stay. Tony jumped and his pen made a thick streak on the page he was writing on.

“Don’t do that,” Tony demanded as he tried to calm his racing heart.

Barnes kept staring at him. “Do you know about the stream?” he repeated.

Tony watched him warily. “You mean the stream that’s been there since before I’ve been born?” he asked sarcastically.

Barnes was unfazed. “It’s flowing south,” he told Tony.

“And?” Tony raised an eyebrow in question.

Barnes shifted a little. “It’s flowing uphill,” he finally said. It came out more like a question than a statement.

Tony blinked. “Seriously?” he asked. He stood from his seat and headed for the back door, brushing against Barnes in the process. He could hear the other man’s footsteps from behind him and knew that he was being followed, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

It was only a few minutes before he’d made it outside and to the little brook that cut through the property. Most of it was on flat ground, moving along only because the source was still flowing, but there were a couple times that the height of the ground changed. Tony knelt down in the dirt next to one of those places and examined the stream. Sure enough, the water was flowing uphill, cascading upwards instead of down. “The hell?” Tony muttered to himself. He scribbled it down in his notebook. “Have you seen anything else weird?” he asked Barnes.

[Art by beir](http://beir.tumblr.com/post/151659043704/my-winterion-bang-art-for-rothwens-like-winter)

Barnes ignored him. “Why is it flowing uphill?” he asked.

“Reduces memory,” Tony answered.

“What?” Barnes sounded kind of alarmed. Tony stared at him for a moment before realising that of course he would be.

“When you’re making an artificial environment like this, it’s easier to just have a lot of identical copies of things instead of everything being distinct and individual.” He watched Bucky warily. “That’s how it works for computers, at least. It’s not something you notice right away, so it doesn’t usually matter. I guess whoever or whatever is generating this place decided that water should flow south. Does that make sense?”

Bucky crouched down next to him. “Not really,” he confessed. He was silent for a moment. “That’s why all the birds and clouds are the same?”

Tony nodded. “Yep. Someone’s lazy.” They were both quiet for a moment as they watched the water defy physics. “Anything else you’ve noticed?” Tony asked again.

Bucky looked over at the page filled with Tony’s cramped handwriting. “You know they can’t read what you write, right?” It didn’t take a genius to know who he meant.

“That’s nothing new. Half the time even I can’t read what I wrote.” Tony gave him a grin. It felt fake on his face. He had noticed how neither his mother or father could make sense of his writing. His father had accused him of writing in code and his mother just frowned down at it, as though it would suddenly make sense to her if she looked at it hard enough.

Barnes nodded solemnly at him. “There was a weird tree earlier,” he offered. “It had face, looked like it was moving. I could swear it was trying to talk to me.”

Tony perked up. “What did it say?” he asked. He pen hovered over an empty space in his journal.

“‘I am Groot’ maybe?” Barnes replied, forehead scrunched in concentration.

Tony relaxed. “That’s Groot,” he told Barnes as he scribbled it into his notebook. “He’s a space tree.” He relished the disbelief on Barnes’ face.

“You’re shitting me,” Barnes accused.

Tony grinned at him. “Groot’s best friend is a racoon.” Barnes shook his head in disbelief. “I can introduce you when we get out of here,” Tony offered.

Barnes snorted and the two of them fell silent. There was something comfortable between them now, something that made it hard for Tony to remember why he should be mad at the other man. Maybe it was for the best, he thought. It was going to be hard enough to get out of whatever mess they were in without holding grudges. He could try to let go of this one. He could still be mad at Rogers.

* * *

“What’s your favorite story about Steve?” Howard asked one night a few days before Christmas, looking happier than Tony had ever seen him. “Storming castles? Taking on Hydra?” Bucky flinched a little, but Howard didn’t seem to notice. “Watching him trying to woo Peggy?” Howard snickered a little as he tossed back the rest of his drink and made to refill it.

Tony knew that Bucky had apparently not remembered everything he claimed he had in Siberia, but this was the first time seeing any evidence of it. Barnes looked baffled, as though someone had decided to give him a pop quiz on a subject he’d never studied. He also looked incredibly uncomfortable around Tony’s father. Tony wasn’t sure if that was because of the knowledge that Barnes had killed him, the memories he insisted on bringing up, or if he just didn’t like Howard. Tony felt like he should do something, but he wasn’t sure what.

It seemed that Maria had noticed the same thing that Tony had, because she stood. “I need some help getting a box down from a high shelf,” she said. “James, would you be a dear and help me?”

Barnes practically leapt at the opportunity. Howard frowned. “Not now, Maria,” he complained. “Why don’t you bring Tony with you instead?”

Maria blinked at him in a manner that reminded Tony of Natasha. “James is nice and tall and the shelf is very high,” she said, casting an apologetic glance at Tony. Howard grumbled, but ultimately didn’t protest anymore. It seemed he was also familiar with her expression.

Maria led the way out of the room and Barnes followed gratefully. Tony wasn’t sure exactly where they were going, since he was pretty sure that the box on a high shelf was completely made up, but he could see the lines of Barnes’ shoulders relax as he got farther away from Howard. Maybe it wasn’t the knowledge that he’d killed Tony’s father that was putting him on edge.

Howard refilled his glass and sipped at it, turning his eyes to his son. Tony fought the urge to fidget. “I’m happy you found them, Bucky and Steve. It’s good to know they’re both still alive.”

Tony sighed. “Listen, Dad,” he started, but Howard cut him off.

“You can learn a lot from Bucky. He’s a great man, Steve’s best friend, you know.”

“I’m very aware of that,” Tony said sharply. He might be warming up to Barnes, but he was still pissed at Rogers. “Barnes has some memory problems,” he told his father before he was interrupted again. “I’m not sure how much he remembers, so can you lay off a little?”

Howard frowned. “Memory problems?” he asked incredulously. “Why would he have memory problems?”

“It’s a long story,” Tony said, “and also none of your business.” He paused for a moment. “And please stop talking about Hydra.”

There was quiet for a few minutes. Tony would have felt more reassured by it if Howard hadn’t spent the entire time regarding him with a fathomless expression. Distantly, Tony could hear the sounds of a discussion coming from what seemed to be the kitchen. The murmur of voices seemed to contain a fair amount of Barnes’ deep voice in addition to his mother’s higher pitched one. It was strange how vocal Barnes was being. Usually, he was too quiet.

Howard shifted in his chair and took a sip of his drink. He stared at Tony over the rim of his glass. “We beat Hydra, Tony. They’re gone.” Howard’s tone was flat. Tony wasn’t sure if his father was telling him that or trying to ask a question. Either way, Tony didn’t know what he could say. If nothing here was real, should he bother trying to fix anything? Would it somehow make things worse? He still had no idea how they’d gotten here or what was generating the illusion. He just stared back at Howard with as even an expression as he could manage.

The moment was interrupted by the sound of his mother’s laughter as she lead Barnes back into the sitting room where Tony and Howard were. Barnes was carrying a tray of sweets and was looking at Maria with a shy smile. It startled Tony how different he looked with that expression, so open and almost soft. “He didn’t,” Maria stated, her laugh washing over Tony like a balm.

“You should have seen him,” Barnes replied, snickering. “Little Stevie all covered in flour, looking like some sort of tiny, vengeful ghost.” Maria swatted his arm and laughed harder.

Howard perked up at the mention of Rogers, but he watched his son for a few more long moments before he turned away. Tony was just glad that he wasn’t dealing with that issue anymore, even if he’d prefer a different topic of conversation.

* * *

Now that he’d noticed it, it was difficult to stop. Barnes was always so gentle and open around Maria. Tony’s mother was a definite part of that. She seemed to adore Barnes and was well trained in getting people to socialize whether they wanted to or not. He heard Barnes talk more in his mother’s presence than he ever had before. It was in direct contrast to how he’d clam up whenever Howard was around. Tony wasn’t sure if Howard had picked up on it yet; he’d think that his father would be upset when he noticed, but there’d been no reaction so far. He still didn’t know why Howard had been so weirdly affectionate toward the beginning. Some sort of strange coping mechanism, perhaps?

It was strange being around Barnes and Maria. Tony wasn’t really used to having his mother fuss over anyone else. There was a little bit of him that was hurt and jealous, but a larger part of him was just fond; his mother always had been kind and caring.

“You only mentioned your mother,” Barnes told him once more while the four of them were sitting around the kitchen table. Howard and Maria were bickering amongst themselves and Tony had to tear his gaze away from them to look at Barnes. He was also watching them, a wistful expression on his face.

“What?” Tony asked.

Barnes’ eyes flickered to him before turning back to Tony’s parents. “In Siberia,” he clarified. “You only mentioned your mother.” His eyes turned to Tony once more and this time stayed on him.

Tony shot him a look that he hoped conveyed his feelings about Barnes’ choice of timing and location. “And?” he asked sharply.

Barnes hunched in on himself a little, but steeled himself enough to respond. “Your mother’s amazing,” he told him. He stayed watching Tony, even as the phone rang and Maria suspended her argument with her husband to answer it.

Tony narrowed his eyes at Barnes. “You ready to tell me about how you don’t actually remember everything?” he asked. Barnes swallowed sharply and his arm twitched, as though he wanted to move it but had decided not to.

“James,” Maria said, drawing the attention of all three men. She was cradling the phone receiver against her chest and had a confused frown on her face. “It’s for you,” she told him, holding the phone out to him a little.

Slowly, Barnes rose from the table and took the phone from her. He placed the receiver against his ear. “Hello?” he asked tentatively. There was the indistinct murmur of a voice and Barnes’ entire body tensed. “Wilson?” he asked, as though he wasn’t sure if it was actually real.

It was odd, Tony realized, watching the phone calls from the other side. He at least knew it was coming from somewhere else and wasn’t blindsided by having it happen right in the middle of an unrelated conversation with another version of the same person. It was still strange, though. Howard didn’t seem to think all that much of it beyond the fact that someone else knew that Barnes was here. Maria, though, seems a little confused. Tony wondered what she had heard when she answered the phone. He didn’t think that Sam knew what they were seeing, or that they could hear them. Rhodey certainly hadn’t. It was part of a whole host of questions he had that he didn’t know if he could get answers for. He didn’t know if he should try for them.

There weren’t a lot of words on Bucky’s end of the conversation, but Tony could read the flow of it in the tensing of the other man’s broad shoulders. Something was being said that he didn’t like, something that put him on edge. There were occasionally moments when Barnes' shoulders dropped fractionally, but those were fleeting and never lasted long. When, finally, Barnes’ hung up, he didn’t move, standing there with his flesh hand on the phone cradle, looking lost.

“What did Wilson have to say?” Tony asked once the silence got to be too much for him. Barnes jerked around to look at him and shook his head slightly, eyes wide and a little wet. He didn’t say anything before he slipped away, leaving the three Starks staring after him.

“What the hell was that about?” Howard asked aloud. Tony said nothing.

* * *

It was nightfall by the time Barnes made himself known again. Tony was in his room getting ready for bed and was not expecting to see the soldier staring at him from through the glass pane of his window. He started for a moment before he sighed and gestured for Barnes to join him. “You might as well just come in,” he said, not even waiting to watch if the soldier would do so. There was a series of sounds though, a blast of cold air, and a flurry of movement that he could see out of the corner of his eye.

Tony finished up his ablutions and sat on the edge of his bed. Barnes was standing in the same corner he had been on the first night, staring back at him. “What did Wilson say?” he asked again. He hoped that the intervening hours would have been enough for Barnes to calm down, but the man just shook his head once more. Tony sighed. “Great talk,” he snarked. “Well, I’m going to bed now, if you don’t mind, so…” Barnes didn’t do anything, so Tony decided to just turn out the light and hope the other man took the hint. “Good night,” he said into the darkness, rolling over so he was facing away from Barnes. There was no sound for a few long minutes.

“Can I,” Barnes started abruptly, voice too loud after the silence. Tony didn’t move, eyes still open and staring into the dark. “I,” Barnes tried again. There was something vulnerable about the tone. Tony propped himself up on one elbow and craned his neck to look at the other man.

Barnes’ eyes were easy to make out, gleaming in the low light. He was staring at the bed and leaning forward slightly. His right arm was hovering near his chest, as though he desperately wanted to reach out and touch, but didn’t think he was allowed to. Tony watched the other man look at the empty spot in the bed next to him and took in the expression on his face. After a few moments he sighed. Tony slumped back down to where he had been lying before and scooched a little farther toward the edge. Awkwardly, he attempted to pat the empty strip of bed behind him. He only partially succeeded. “C’mon,” he said to the wall in front of him. “You don’t want to sleep alone, right? Just make sure you ditch the denim.”

There were a few more silent moments followed by a sudden flurry of rustling cloth. The bed behind Tony dipped and he shifted enough so that he wouldn’t roll backwards. A brief gust of cold air told him that the sheets had been lifted. Finally, everything behind him settled. Tony strained his ears, but he could hardly make out Barnes’ breathing. There were no points of contact between them, although Tony could feel the back of his neck prickle. Barnes had to be watching him. No one said anything.

Slowly, Tony felt himself relax. Having Barnes’ under the same blanket made everything pleasantly warm and even the nearly undetectable sounds of the other man’s breath guided him towards sleep. It had been too long since he had shared a bed with someone; he hadn’t realized how much he’d missed it. It wasn’t quite the same as it was with Pepper, he thought fuzzily, but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. His eyes drifted closed. His body felt warm and weightless.

“It was Wanda,” Barnes’ said, breaking the silence. Tony’s eyes snapped open and his entire body went rigid, but he didn’t say anything. There was the click of Barnes’ swallowing before he continued. “What got us here. It was Wanda.” Tony waited a moment for an elaboration. Barnes’ provided it. “Wilson said you and Steve had a fight. That the world was ending and you still wouldn’t ask Steve for help.” He sounded confused, like he hadn’t entirely understood what had been told to him. If the call with Sam had been anything like Tony’s call with Rhodey, that made sense. Sam wouldn’t have known that Barnes’ could hear him.

“Apparently Wanda was trying to make you guys get along, or work together, or something, and accidentally used magic.” A pause. “I’m not sure exactly where I was during this, or how I wound up here instead of Steve,” Barnes said. His tone seemed to ask for clarification, but Tony wasn’t going to give it to him. He thought he had been over it, this surge of rage that went through him when he thought about Rogers, but clearly that wasn’t the case. His hands clenched around the sheets as he tried not to lash out. He wasn’t mad at Barnes. He wasn’t.

Barnes seemed to read the tension in Tony’s body. “You were fighting about me,” he guessed with a sigh. “About what I did.” Tony said nothing. The mattress squeaked as Barnes shifted. The next few minutes were filled with the buzz of silence. Tony fought to keep his breathing even.

“I’m not sure if I’ll ever remember everything,” Barnes said, breaking the silence again. “I keep thinking I do, and then more memories come. I don’t…,” he trailed off. “Have you ever realized you’ve done something unforgivable? And it doesn’t even matter if you could help it or not, because there’s no excuse for it?”

Tony kept his silence, but he thought back to that cave, Yinsen, Gulmira. Sokovia, Pietro, Ultron. Yes, he knew how that felt.

There was the sound of Barnes sighing. “Howard’s a lot like Steve, I think,” he said. “They keep remembering me as something that I can’t be anymore. I don’t even know if I want to be that person anymore.” A pause. “I wouldn’t know how to begin to be. There was a reason I didn’t go looking for Steve after Hydra fell.” The mattress squeaked again and Tony could feel the heat from Bucky behind him, not touching him, but only barely. “I’m don’t know what I’m supposed to be around your mom.” This came out softer than before and Tony could feel the puffs of Barnes’ breath on the back of his neck. “She’s so nice,” Barnes continued, “but I keep remembering the way she…,” he trailed of and swallowed loudly before continuing. “I keep remembering what I did to her. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do about it.”

Tony shivered despite the warmth that his blankets and bedmate provided. He drew the blankets up higher, leaving half his face buried under the covers.

“I think I get it,” said Bucky, “why you only mentioned your mom. She’s amazing.”

Tony swallowed and stayed silent until he could hear soft snores coming from behind him. “Yeah,” he whispered finally, “she really is.”

* * *

When they woke, the sky outside was on fire. The orange blaze flickered wildly well into the day, but there was no sign of the source. “That’s how the sky looks back home,” Tony told Bucky. The other man gave him a significant look. “I don’t know if Sam told you what’s happening back there.” Bucky shook his head. “Aliens,” Tony told him, “again.”

“Seriously?” Bucky blinked. “People mentioned something about aliens and New York back when I was on the run, but I thought I was misinterpreting what they said.”

Tony grinned at him. “Oh no,” he said, “I was there. Flew a nuke into a wormhole and everything. Besides, you’ve totally met an alien.” His grin widened as Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Remember Groot?” he asked. “The talking space tree?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Howard asked as he entered the room. He didn’t even glance at the sky. Maria entered after him and took a moment to peer outside, afterwards casting questioning glances at Tony and Bucky. A bright burst of orange lit the sky, shifting the colors that it cast on everything that the light could reach. Neither Howard or Maria seemed to notice.

“What color is the sky today?” Tony asked. Howard squinted at him like he thought Tony was stupid.

Maria looked outside again for a long moment. She turned back to Tony. “What color do you see it as today?” she asked. Tony didn’t answer. Howard continued to his seat and opened the newspaper. Just like the books, there were no words. But this time the rows were filled with cartoonish scribbles instead of left blank. The pictures were all generic. A newspaper did not need that many pictures of fruit.

Tony sighed as he watched his father flip through the pages, the older man setting sections aside on the table to make reading the paper more manageable. They were all filled with the same scribble writing and there were more generic photos. Some were vegetables, some animals, some cars. Tony didn’t even want to know what the comics section looked like. Was it the same strip over and over, like the television shows?

Bucky took a seat at the table next to Howard to eat his breakfast. He didn’t seem to pay much attention to the newspapers as he shoveled eggs into his mouth. His eyes were pretty much focused on his plate, only occasionally lifting his gaze from it to scan the doors and windows. Tony assumed it was a holdover from his days on the run. Normally, the soldier didn’t find anything wrong and went back to his food, but this time his eyes caught on the pile of newspaper pages. “Tony,” he said as he picked up one of the sections that was peeking out from the middle of the pile. He held it in front of him and stared at it.

Obediently, Tony came over to him and plopped himself down in the chair next to Bucky. “What?” he asked. Bucky just shoved the newspaper into his hands. Tony looked it over. Scribbles. Scribbles. More scribbles. A picture of a dog. A generic storefront. Even more scribbles. A photo of a car crash. Tony felt his breath catch in his throat.

It was a very familiar car crash. The car in question had crashed into a tree on an achingly familiar stretch of road. Tony stared at it until a hand covered one of his own. His gaze followed along the arm attached to it until he realized it belonged to his mother, who was now sitting in the previously empty chair next to him and watching him with concern.

“Tony,” she said, raking her eyes over him.

Tony blinked at her. He hadn’t even noticed that she’d sat down. He turned his gaze back to the paper he was holding. It was crumpled where he was gripping it. He forced himself to take a deep breath and let go. His hands shook. Bucky, at his right, tentatively offered his metal arm for Tony to hold. Tony grasped it tightly with his right hand, fingers interlaced for more security. He took a few more deep breaths.

“What does this say?” Tony asked, pointing at the scribble writing underneath the picture. His voice was soft, more than he was comfortable with.

Howard frowned at him. Maria ran a hand through his hair. “Tony, what?” Howard asked.

“What,” Tony repeated at the same volume as before, “does this say?”

His mother wrapped an arm around his shoulders in a hug as she leaned over to read it for him. “‘Get your head out of the sand,’” she read aloud. “‘The zoo has a new ostrich.’ Are you alright, sweetheart?” Tony felt his hand clench around Bucky’s even more tightly.

Bucky gently squeezed back. “What’s the picture of?” he asked.

“Jesus Christ,” Howard said, leaning around Bucky to look at it. “It’s a picture of an ostrich.”

Tony leaned back in his chair and yanked his hand out of Bucky’s so he could bury his face in his hands. He didn’t want anyone to see how not okay he was, but he didn’t think he had the strength to be alone right now. His mother dragged him into her arms and Tony didn’t protest.

After a moment, there was a rustle as Bucky grabbed the newspaper to go through it. “Do you still have the older papers?” he asked. Someone must have nodded because Bucky told Howard to go get them.

* * *

An hour later, Bucky had managed to assemble a pile of newspaper clippings that didn’t fit into the generic mold that most of them did. Tony wasn’t sure if he’d managed to get all of them because he hadn’t really asked Tony if he recognized anyone or anything else yet, but he had caught the other man giving him considering looks before he cut out various photos. Tony supposed that it didn’t really matter if he’d caught everything. Just what Bucky had managed to collect would likely be enough for whatever they needed it for.

Tony watched as Bucky spread them out across the table in front of them. There was barely an inch of the surface that wasn’t covered. The photos were an odd collection of faces and buildings, with an occasional scene akin to the car crash that had started this mess. Some of them Tony recognized as being from his own past. With many of the others, he noticed how Bucky would let his gaze linger before forcing himself to look at the next.

There was Yinsen, Tony realized, scanning his eyes over the collection, and Pietro, and the ruins of the Stark building that had been destroyed in his battle with Obie. There was Zemo and that bunker in Siberia. He recognized a few pictures as having been in the news, political leaders and assassinations. He assumed most of those were from Bucky’s past instead of his.

“What are we supposed to be looking at?” Howard asked. He walked around the table so that he could get a better view, like maybe looking at everything from a different perspective would clue him into what was happening. Maria was still sitting next to Tony, no longer holding him but ready to do so on a moment's notice.

Tony just shook his head in answer. He had an idea, but he still wasn’t sure how he was supposed to tell his parents that they weren’t actually real. How were you supposed to tell someone that they were only an illusion. He couldn’t imagine his father handling it well. He didn’t want to even try to imagine explaining to his mother.

Bucky sank down into the seat next to Tony. “It’s breaking down,” he said in an undertone, “isn’t it?”

Tony nodded in answer. Howard frowned at the two of them. “What did you say?” he asked, eyes narrowed in suspicion. Both Tony and Bucky ignored him.

“Is there anything we can do?” Bucky asked. Tony looked at him and saw that the other man was watching him with visible concern. What was that about?

Tony shrugged. “It’s Wanda,” he said, “and magic. I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

Bucky bit his lip and looked at the array of photographs. “Are you going to be alright?” he asked.

Tony snorted. “Yeah, sure,” he replied. The sarcasm in his tone was jarring even to him.

* * *

Tony’s mother had insisted that the four of them spend the evening together. Tony had the sneaking suspicion that she had noticed more about the situation than she was letting on. Likely, she had taken one look at her son and Bucky and had decided that there was no way the two of them were going to be alone tonight. Not if there was anything she could do to help it. The fact that this illusory version of his mother was so similar to the real thing made Tony miss her all the more.

Bucky had chosen to sit next to him again tonight instead of maintaining the cautious distance that he’d been displaying before today. It was odd, but not unwelcome, not after last night. “I’m curious,” Bucky said, voice pitched low enough that only Tony could hear him over the soft murmur of the radio that Maria had switched on.

Tony tore his eyes away from watching his mother read and his father scribble away in a notebook. “About what?” he asked.

Bucky shifted awkwardly next to him. “How close are they to your real parents? I mean, Wanda generated this illusion, right? I didn’t think that she’d know all that much about your parents. Certainly not enough to create all this. I mean, you look like being around them is painful for you. You wouldn’t be like that if they were nothing like how your parents actually were.”

Tony wasn’t quite sure what to say. He swallowed harshly. “There was this thing she did,” he said slowly, “back when she and her brother were working for Ultron.” He turned his eyes back to his parents so that he could watch them. “She got into everyone else’s heads. I mean, not Clint or any of the newbies, but Steve and Natasha. She got Thor and Bruce, too, although you haven’t met either of them yet.” He paused so he could try to find his words.

“They all saw bits of their pasts, apparently, and things that she’d have no way of knowing about. None of them ever really talked about it much, but I got the impression that it was pretty accurate.” He snorted. “I know whatever she made Bruce see caused him to hulk out, just like she wanted.”

“Why didn’t she get you or Clint?” Bucky asked. There was something odd about his tone, but Tony didn’t dare look at him.

“She got Steve, Natasha, and Thor pretty much one after the other,” Tony said, “so Clint knew what she was doing. And he’d already been mind controlled once before thanks to Loki, so he didn’t really want to do it again. He managed to get her with an electric arrow while she was trying to do it to him.”

Bucky was quiet for a moment. “And what about you?” he finally asked. “Why didn’t she get you?”

Tony kept his eyes firmly on his parents. “I,” he began, but he stopped as he tried to figure out what he wanted to say. “Back when we first met them, Wanda and her brother, we were at a Hydra base. Everyone else was fighting outside, but I went inside to go look for Loki’s staff and any other cool things they might have had lying around. When I found the staff, I had a sort of, vision, you might call it. It was more an idea of a possible future than anything else. I didn’t,” he paused, tearing his gaze away from his parents so that he could stare at his own hands instead. “I wasn’t in the best headspace then, hadn’t been for a while, so I didn’t really think much of it. Just thought it was something my mind came up with on its own. And then later, once Ultron happened, I thought that maybe it had been the staff itself that was screwing with my head. It got us all before, you know, back when I first met Steve and everyone else.” Tony took a couple of deep breaths and returned to watching his parents. Neither of them seemed to pay any attention to Bucky and him. The radio kept crooning the same song it had been playing all night.

After a long moment, Tony continued, “After she got the rest of the team, I entertained the idea that she might have been responsible for it, but no one ever said anything. I didn’t want to ask her. I know I fucked up with Ultron, and that’s totally my fault. I didn’t want her to think I was trying to shift the blame for that whole mess onto her.” He sighed. “She was so happy with the Avengers, too. I didn’t want to bring up her time with Hydra.” He shook his head and took a shaky breath. “She would have said something, right? If she’d fucked with my head? I mean, everyone else saw their pasts, like what’s happening right now. That original vision was probably just me.”

It was around this time that Tony realized that Bucky was trembling. “You okay?” he asked. He felt stupid for doing so, but he couldn’t think of anything else to say. He offered his hand to the other man. Bucky took it. He was surprisingly gentle with Tony, running his thumb over the back of his hand again and again. It made Tony feel a little bad over how hard he had squeezed Bucky’s earlier in the day.

“Wanda worked for Hydra?” Bucky asked.

Tony blinked at him and frowned. “Yeah,” he said. “She and her brother joined up for their experiments.” He paused. Did Bucky not know everyone’s backstories? “Their parents were killed by a Stark Industries bomb,” he explained. “Obie sold it behind my back, but I designed the damn thing. They wanted revenge on me for it. Apparently that sort of thing is really common when you’ve suffered childhood trauma. Hydra promised them the opportunity for payback, so they both joined up. That’s how they got their powers, from Hydra experimenting on people with Loki’s staff.”

“She’s Hydra,” Bucky repeated, “and she’s in my head.”

Oh, Tony thought. “She wouldn’t do anything like that to you,” he said. “She quit Hydra, and Ultron. She’s trying to save people, now, not kill them. Besides, you’re not-,” he said, cutting himself off by clicking his mouth shut.

Bucky’s hand went very still in his. “I’m not what?” Bucky asked.

Me, Tony wanted to say. He shook his head instead. “It’s not important. Just know that you don't have to worry about things like that from her.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes at him. He opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by a new voice.

“I’m so sorry, Buck,” came Rogers’ voice from the radio. Both Bucky and Tony swiveled their heads to look towards the source of the sound. Neither Howard or Maria seemed to be able to hear it. Tony felt Bucky’s hand twitch around his. “This is,” Rogers continued, cutting himself off with a humourless laugh. “Jesus christ.”

It was strange hearing Rogers’ voice again. Tony wanted to be angry at the sound of it, and he was sure that if he gave it enough time the rage would come roaring back, but for the moment he couldn’t bring himself to be anything other than exhausted. This whole situation was so surreal.

“I’m not sure what’s been going on with me,” said Rogers. “But there’s definitely something wrong. Sam says I probably have PTSD. I’m not sure how much I like that idea. Rhodes told me it’s because I’m a dick and then punched me. I like that idea even less, though I think it might be more accurate.” There was a snort of unamused laughter. “I just keep screwing up,” Rogers continued.

It was quiet for a long moment before Rogers decided to continue. “I think I’ve been trying so hard to hold onto the past that I’ve been ignoring the present. It’s been hurting everyone: me, you, everyone who followed me into exile. And Tony. Jesus Christ. Tony.”

Briefly, Tony entertained the idea of fleeing the room. Curiosity held him back.

“He offered to get you counseling, you know,” said Rogers. “And for some reason, I didn’t correct Sam when he said that Tony wouldn’t help exonerate you. I knew it was ridiculous, but I just went with it. I guess I must have said some pretty awful things about Tony in the past if Sam thought that. He never got the chance to know Tony well enough to realize I was full of shit. And after everything, I gave Tony that insincere apology and expected him to actually contact me for help. Jesus Christ.”

By this point, Tony’s mother had noticed that something was going on, even if she couldn’t hear it herself; there was no way that she could mistake the way that both men were sitting ramrod straight for anything the least bit normal. She followed their gazes to the radio and frowned at it.

Steve sighed. “I just… This whole mess you’re trapped in is supposed to wear off soon. Wanda didn’t mean to, you know. Tony and I were arguing and something exploded on Tony’s end. I guess she got freaked out. She doesn’t have great control of her powers yet. I’m still not sure why you got dragged in with Tony instead of me. Wanda said something about working towards forgiveness. I don’t…” He trailed off.

“I’m sorry you’re going to have to wake up to such a shitshow,” he continued. “Tony kept trying to warn us, but we kept shrugging it off, like he was trying to brag about being brave or something. I thought after Ultron that leaving active duty was the best thing Tony could do, but maybe all it did was isolate him further. Maybe it isolated _me_ further. I need to apologize to him, for real this time, once you guys wake up. You’d like him, you know, if you met him under better circumstances. You two would get along so well…” Steve’s voice trailed off again. This time, it didn’t come back. The one song the radio sounded again.

His mother was still watching them, Tony could tell. His hand felt very warm in Bucky’s; he wasn’t sure if he actually wanted to move it or not. Howard hadn’t even looked up from his notebook.

* * *

Bucky joined Tony in bed again that night. It took a long time for either of them to fall asleep. “I’m sorry I killed your parents,” Bucky eventually said into the darkness.

Tony was facing away from him once again. “It’s not your fault,” he told the other man. And it wasn’t. Tony had known it for a while.

Behind him, Bucky squirmed. “Yes,” Bucky said. “It is my fault.” His voice was very soft and he sounded miserable.

Tony opened his mouth to refute it again, but thought better of it. He thought back to Steve and his insistence that Bucky was innocent. Had Steve even let Bucky feel guilty about everything? Didn’t he deserve to be able to feel what he wanted, even if it might not be entirely accurate? Was Tony really going to tell Bucky he wasn’t allowed to be in charge of his own emotions? “Okay,” he said instead. “I forgive you,” he added after a moment. “I’m sorry I tried to kill you.”

“You’re forgiven,” murmured Bucky. He shifted, moving closer to Tony. Tony could feel the heat of the other man behind him. This wasn’t so bad, he thought as his eyes slid closed. He could live with this.

* * *

Tony woke to a warm bed the next morning. At some point during the night Barnes had curled up against his back. He didn’t have an arm wrapped around Tony or anything; he had just pressed himself up against Tony, arms wrapped around his own stomach instead. It was such an unexpected event that it Tony a long time to realize what he was hearing. It was so, so quiet.

There were no birds chirping outside the window or odd creaks of the old house. There were no sounds to indicate that anyone else was up. Tony dared to glance at the clock on his wall. The hand was still moving in its usual steady increments, but there was no ticking sound.

There was a puff of air against the back of Tony’s neck as Bucky exhaled. “Everything got quiet about an hour ago,” Bucky offered. Through a gap in the sheer curtains covering the window, Tony could see the orange sky blazing even brighter than the day before. The shadow of the huge tree that had been outside as long as he could remember was missing.

Tony shoved the covers off of himself and stood, walking to the window and opening the curtains so he could peer outside. There was nothing out there except the flaming sky and a wide expanse of featureless land that faded into a mist a few hundred yards beyond the house. The mattress creaked as Bucky got up so he could see it too.

“This means it’s almost over, right?” Bucky asked, staring outside.

Tony hummed noncommittally. “Where are my parents?” he asked instead. He looked at Bucky, who frowned back at him. “C’mon,” he said, taking Bucky by the hand and dragging the other man after him. Together, they made their way out of Tony’s room and down the stairs.

They found Tony’s mother at the piano. She was playing something on it, and seemed not to notice the lack of sound the instrument produced.

“Where’s Dad?” Tony asked. Maria’s fingers paused in their movements for a second before they continued playing. She didn’t look away from the keys. “Mom?” asked Tony.

“What do you see when you look outside?” she asked. Neither Tony or Bucky answered. “When I look outside,” she continued, “I see the same thing I always see. I see the grounds, with all the trees and animals, and the little brook that runs behind the house. I see a blue sky and the fence out front, and a whole world beyond it.”

Tony took a few tentative steps forward and stretched out a hand toward her. “Mom,” he said. His mother stopped playing the piano so she could take Tony’s hand in her own and guide her son to sit on the piano bench next to her. Bucky hovered awkwardly in the background. Maria gestured for him to come closer. He didn’t move.

“When I open books,” she said, “I see words in them. The television plays more than one show. The radio plays more than one song.” She wrapped an arm around Tony’s shoulders and pulled him into a hug. She gestured at Bucky again until he stepped up toward the edge of the piano, standing next to Tony. She continued, “I can open any drawer I want, provided it isn’t locked.”

“Where’s Dad?” Tony asked again. Maria’s eyes flitted to an empty chair and stayed there for a long moment. Tony shut his own eyes and pressed himself further into his mother’s embrace. “How long have you known?” he asked her. His voice was slightly muffled due to his face being pressed into his mother’s neck.

She ran a hand through his hair. “Long enough,” she said. “This, whatever it is, is ending, isn’t it?” Tony didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. “We don’t have a lot of time left, then.” Again, Tony couldn’t bring himself to say anything.

All three of them were quiet for a few minutes. “Real or not,” Maria finally said, “I’m still your mother.” Tony nodded into her shoulder. It had been hard enough to see a copy of her even before the spell had begun to break down. Now that he knew it was almost over, he realized that he didn’t know if he could handle saying goodbye. “I love you, you know,” she said.

Tony squeezed her tighter. “I love you, too. So much.”

“Are you happy? In your reality?” she asked. Tony felt himself freeze, unsure of how to answer. There were people he loved there, and he’d never give up any of them, but he didn’t know if he could classify it as happy. Not when the world was about to end. Maria pulled him even closer to herself and pressed a kiss into his hair. “And you, James?” she asked after a moment. “Are you happy?”

Tony turned his head just enough to see Bucky’s response. The other man shrugged a little awkwardly. His eyes met Tony’s. “I could be, I think,” he said.

“Maybe,” Tony said, eyes never leaving Bucky’s. “It’s something to consider.”

Maria pressed another kiss to the top of her son’s head and rose from the bench. “You’ll be alright?” she asked. “You’ll get home safely?”

Tony briefly considered lying. “I’m not sure,” he said instead. “We’ll certainly try.”

Maria nodded. “The two of you are good together,” she said. “Watch out for one another.” It wasn’t a request. Bucky nodded solemnly at her and she turned to face away from them. With a very assured stride, she walked through the doorway into the next room.

“Wait,” Tony begged. He scrambled from the bench to the doorway, hoping to catch her. He was too late; the room was empty of people. His mother was nowhere to be found.

He wasn’t sure how long he stood in the doorway, staring into the empty room. He only noticed that it had been more than a few seconds when Bucky stepped up behind him and tentatively laid a hand on his shoulder. Neither of them said anything. Neither of them needed to.

* * *

“It’s getting closer,” Bucky said, staring out of the window. Tony was sitting at the piano, fingers pressing down the keys in the way his mother used to. The instrument still made no sound. “I’m not sure how much longer we have until there’s nothing left.”

[Art by sleepyoceanprince](http://sleepyoceanprince.tumblr.com/post/151678619923/finally-my-submission-for-this-years-winteriron)

Tony nodded. “Do you really want to wait, though?” he asked.

Bucky frowned at him. “What do you mean?” he asked.

Tony let his fingers keep playing the silent song. “There’s nothing left here,” he said. “There’s no reason to stay if we don’t have to.”

“I guess,” Bucky said, frowning. He glanced back outside. “How do you think we’re supposed to get out of here. The mist is getting closer. Will stepping into it force us to wake up?”

Tony shrugged. “All I know is that it’ll get us eventually, even if we just stay here. This whole situation is ridiculous. I’m not sure there’s anyway to know for sure what the right call is.” Tony switched songs, fingers aligning themselves to different keys.

“Do you think we’ll remember everything when this is over?” Bucky asked minutes later. Tony shrugged again. “I hope we do,” Bucky continued. “I’m not sure what I’d do otherwise.”

“Get yourself frozen again, probably,” Tony answered. “It’s what you did before. It’s a strange choice, but not all of us can make good decisions.” He shot Bucky a small smile.

Bucky gasped melodramatically and pressed his right hand over his own heart. He couldn’t quite fight off a grin. The sky outside flashed brightly, drawing Bucky’s gaze once more. His smile fell. “What if only one of us remembers?”

Tony’s fingers finally stopped moving as he watched the other man. “Then who ever does remember will have to make enough effort to fix things for the both of us,” he said.

Bucky nodded back at him. “Okay,” he said. Tony was pretty sure that Bucky was convinced that he himself was going to be the one with memory problems. He swore to do his best if that turned out to be true. “It’s almost to the porch now,” Bucky said.

Slowly, carefully, Tony lowered the lid over the piano keys with a dull thunk. He rose from the bench and walked over to join Bucky by the window. The sky was still orange and what little ground there was remained featureless; the mist had swallowed almost everything. “Do you want to wait?” he asked.

Bucky took a moment to reply. “There’s no point in delaying the inevitable,” he replied. “We might as well just go now.”

Tony nodded and looked around the room. His father’s notebook lay open on the side table, the pen he carried everywhere beside it. The Christmas decorations were still hanging, oddly comforting. His mother’s sheet music was resting on the piano, ready for the next time someone wanted to play it. If he didn’t think about it, it looked like his parents had just stepped out of the room and were going to return at any moment. It reminded him uncomfortably of when they had actually died.

“The front door?” he asked.

“Why not?” Bucky answered.

They made their way to the front room slowly so that Tony could take his time to memorize the way the house was set up and the arrangement of knickknacks and photographs. They came to a stop in front of the door.

Tony breathed in deeply as he stared at it. He reached out blindly toward Bucky, who grasped his hand with his own. Tony felt like he should say something. “Do you want to be an Avenger when we get back?” he blurted out.

Bucky blinked at him. “You want me to join your superhero team?” he asked.

Tony shrugged. He hadn’t meant to say it, but now that he had, he liked the idea of it. “Why not? After all, we need more members. Rogers did make off with most of the team.”

Bucky squeezed his hand. “I’d like that,” he said.

Tony nodded. “Good,” he said in response. “Good.” He took a deep breath and opened the door. The swirling mist greeted them just beyond the frame.

“You ready?” Bucky asked.

“Yep,” Tony said. “See you on the other side.” Together, they stepped into the mist, leaving the house behind.

[Art by beir](http://beir.tumblr.com/post/151659043704/my-winterion-bang-art-for-rothwens-like-winter)


End file.
